You will ask how the President fell. This is hard to say, certainly, without much plainness of speech. Mr. Seward openly confesses that he counselled the present fatal “policy.” Unquestionably the Blairs, father and son, did the same. So also, I doubt not, did Mr. Preston King. It is easy to see that Mr. Seward was not a wise counsellor. This is not his first costly blunder. In formal despatches he early announced that “the rights of the States, and the condition of every human being in them, will remain subject to exactly the same laws and forms of administration, whether the revolution shall succeed or whether it shall fail.”[65] And now he labors for the fulfilment of his own prophecy. Obviously, from the beginning, he has failed to comprehend the Rebellion, while in nature he is abnormal and eccentric, jumping like the knight on the chess-board, rather than moving on straight lines. Undoubtedly the influence of such a man over the President has not been good. But the President himself is his own worst counsellor, as he is his own worst defender. He does not open his mouth without furnishing evidence against himself.
The brave words with which he accepted his nomination as Vice-President resounded through the country. He was elected. Then followed two scenes, each of which filled the people with despair. The first was of the new Vice-President taking the oath of office—in the presence of the foreign ministers, the judges of the Supreme Court, and the Senate—while in such a condition that his attempted speech became trivial and incoherent, and he did not know the name of the Secretary of the Navy, who is now the devoted supporter of his policy, as he has been his recent travelling companion. One month and one week thereafter President Lincoln was assassinated. The people, wrapt in affliction at the great tragedy, trembled as they beheld a drunken man ascend the heights of power. But they were generous and forgiving,—almost forgetful. He was our President, and hands were outstretched to welcome and sustain him. His early utterances as President, although commonplace, loose, and wordy, gave assurance that the Rebellion and its authors would find little favor. Treason was to be made odious.
At this time my own personal relations with him commenced. I had known him slightly while he was in the Senate; but I lost no time in seeing him after he became President. He received me kindly. I hope that I shall not err, if I allude briefly to what passed between us. You are my constituents, and I wish you to know the Presidential mood at that time, and also what your representative attempted.
Being in Washington during the first month of the new Administration, destined to fill such an unhappy place in history, I saw the President frequently, at the private house he then occupied, or at his office in the Treasury. He had not yet taken possession of the Executive Mansion. The constant topic was “Reconstruction,” which was considered in every variety of aspect. More than once I ventured to press the duty and renown of carrying out the principles of the Declaration of Independence, and of founding the new governments on the consent of the governed, without distinction of color. To this earnest appeal he replied, as I sat with him alone, in words which I can never forget: “On this question, Mr. Sumner, there is no difference between us; you and I are alike.” Need I say that I was touched to the heart by this annunciation, which seemed to promise a victory without a battle? Accustomed to controversy, I saw clearly, that, if the President declared himself for the Equal Rights of All, the good cause must prevail without controversy. Expressing to him my joy and gratitude, I remarked that there should be no division in the great Union party,—that no line should be run through it, on one side of which would be gentlemen calling themselves “the President’s friends,” but we should be kept all together as one seamless garment. To this he promptly replied, “I mean to keep you all together.” Nothing could be better. We were to be kept all together on the principle of Equal Rights. As I walked away, that evening, the battle of my life seemed ended, while the Republic rose before me, refulgent in the blaze of assured freedom, an example to the nations.
On another occasion, during the same period, the case of Tennessee was discussed. I expressed the earnest hope that the President would use his influence directly for the establishment of impartial suffrage in that State, saying that in this way Tennessee would be put at the head of the returning column and be made an example,—in one word, that all the other States would be obliged to dress on Tennessee. The President replied, that, if he were at Nashville, he would see this accomplished. I could not help rejoining, that he need not be at Nashville, for at Washington his hand was on the long end of the lever with which he could easily move all Tennessee,—referring, of course, to the powerful, but legitimate, influence the President might exercise in his own State by the expression of his desires. Let me confess that his hesitation disturbed me; but I attributed it to unnecessary caution, rather than to infidelity. He had been so positive with me, how could I suspect him?
At other times the conversation was renewed. Such was my interest in the question, that I could not see the President without introducing it. As I was about to return home, I said that I desired, even at the risk of repetition, to make some parting suggestions on the constant topic, and that, with his permission, I would proceed point by point, as was the habit of the pulpit in former days. He smiled, and observed pleasantly, “Have I not always listened to you?” I replied, “You have; and I am grateful.” After remarking that the Rebel region was still in military occupation, and that it was the plain duty of the President to use his temporary power for the establishment of correct principles, I proceeded to say: “First, see to it that no newspaper is allowed which is not thoroughly loyal, and does not speak well of the National Government and of Equal Rights”; and here I reminded him of the saying of the Duke of Wellington, that in a place under martial law an unlicensed press is as impossible as on the deck of a ship of war. “Secondly, let the officers that you send, as military governors or otherwise, be known for devotion to Equal Rights, so that their names alone will be a proclamation, while their simple presence will help educate the people”; and here I mentioned Major-General Carl Schurz, who still held his commission in the army, as such a person. “Thirdly, encourage the population to resume the profitable labors of agriculture, commerce, and manufactures without delay,—but for the present to avoid politics. Fourthly, keep the whole region under these good influences, and at the proper moment hand over the subject of Reconstruction, with the great question of Equal Rights, to the judgment of Congress, where it belongs.” All this the President received with perfect kindness, and I mention this with the more readiness because I remember to have seen in the papers a very different statement.
Only a short time afterwards there was a change, which seemed like a somersault or an apostasy; and then ensued a strange sight. Instead of faithful Unionists, recent Rebels thronged the Presidential antechambers, rejoicing in new-found favor. They made speeches at the President, and he made speeches at them. A mutual sympathy was manifest. On one occasion the President announced himself a “Southern man” with “Southern sympathies,” thus quickening that sectional flame which good men hoped to see quenched forever. Alas! if, after all our terrible sacrifices, we are still to have a President who does not know how to spurn every sectional appeal and make himself representative of all! Unhappily, whatever the President said or did was sectional. He showed himself constantly a sectionalist. Instead of telling the ex-Rebels who thronged the Presidential antechambers, as he should have done, that he was their friend, that he wished them well from the bottom of his heart, that he longed to see their fields yield an increase, with peace in all their borders, and that, to this end, he counselled them to pursue agriculture, commerce, and manufactures, and for the present to say nothing about politics,—instead of this, he sent them away talking and thinking of nothing but politics, and frantic for the reëstablishment of a sectional power. Instead of designating officers of the army as military governors, which I had supposed he would do, he appointed ex-Rebels, who could not take the oath required by Congress of all officers of the United States, and they in turn appointed ex-Rebels to office under them; so that participation in the Rebellion found reward, and treason, instead of being made odious, became the passport to power. Everywhere ex-Rebels came out of hiding-places. They walked the streets defiantly, and asserted their old domination. Under auspices of the President, a new campaign was planned against the Republic, and they who failed in open war now sought to enter the very citadel of political power. Victory, purchased by so much loyal blood and treasure, was little better than a cipher. Slavery itself revived in the spirit of Caste. Faithful men who had been trampled down by the Rebellion were trampled down still more by these Presidential governments. For the Unionist there was no liberty of the press or liberty of speech, and the lawlessness of Slavery began to rage anew.